


Spring and Winter

by CeridwenofWales



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 03:20:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11523456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeridwenofWales/pseuds/CeridwenofWales
Summary: This work is an one shot requested by my sweetie @babyjane11 on Tumblr. It happens that I'll include this piece to the main fic later on. Thanks for your constant support and ideas, my cupcake. @daizydoe helped me a lot with suggestions and Grammar. I couldn't have asked for a better twin sister. I love my girls. ^^Emer endures the cramps from her period while Ivar tries to overcome his insecurities and share his secrets with his wife.





	Spring and Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DaizyDoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaizyDoe/gifts), [thenorns_themoirai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenorns_themoirai/gifts), [Lauredessine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauredessine/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Fox and The Maiden Fair](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9592907) by [CeridwenofWales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeridwenofWales/pseuds/CeridwenofWales). 



 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Defeated once more. It was like she was feeling. Pain all over her body, as if she had fought in a battle. At least it was like Emer imagined the warrior’s muscles would ache. A dull pressure on her lower back, and, of course, the blood that was soaking the cloth she placed between her legs.

 

If at least she was passing through pain to bring a new life to the world, she would gladly endure. But another cycle of moon had passed and another opportunity to do her duty was wasted. Emer didn't understand why Ivar had never touched her. Sometimes she caught him staring at her, but he never said a thing.

 

"What is on his mind?" It was a constant and silent and disturbing question she didn't know if one day would be answered.

 

If he was not satisfied with her, it would be expected to take a concubine or a slave. But he never did, and for this she was grateful, Emer knew it was his right to do so, but it would feel like a knife being twisted in her heart if Ivar touched another woman. Not only because people would whisper she was an useless wife, after all those months not showing any sign of pregnancy. But because she wanted all of him. His blue eyes swallowing her to the darkness that she knew lived within. Emer wouldn't mind being dragged to the shadows if it meant she would not be alone. She would be with him. _Truly with him_.

 

  

* * *

 

 

  

Ivar was worried, when he woke up, she was still sleeping and hadn’t come to the hall yet. He couldn’t bring himself to eat if she was not there. Everything he tried to put in his mouth was tasteless, and so Ivar kept glancing at the back of the house, waiting for Emer to walk in.

 

“Where is my wife? Is she awake?” Ivar inquired one of the servants, who shook her head.

 

Ivar sighed, propping himself with the help of his crutches. He was going to see for himself.

 

 

* * *

 

  

Lying on her stomach she was trying to muffle her crying and the pain. She heard some priests saying that women deserved the pain because of Eve’s original sin. Emer doubted it.

 

She knew that men spilled blood in the world with hunting and war while women gave blood. Through the healing crimson wave of the moon’s birth the body was cleansed from the last month’s death, preparing her womb to receive the gift of life, restoring the death men inflict upon the world. The knowledge that men wanted to keep for themselves that life comes from between women’s legs, and that life costs blood. Some men might think women are afraid of blood in a battlefield. If they knew that women more than any other living being, were aware of the high price of life and death. For they suffered to bring life to the world and grieved the loss and waste of blood.

 

Emer felt a hand on her back, “Are you ill?” Ivar asked.

 

Emer raised her head slowly, “No, it’s only… my…” she felt embarrassed to tell him.

 

Ivar tilted his head and frowned, looking at her with curiosity, she mentioned she was not sick. _But why she doesn’t say what she is feeling_ , “Tell me.” he insisted softly, caressing her hair.

 

Emer closed her eyes, savoring the gentleness, “I’ll be fine. Have you eaten yet?”

 

“Yes, I have. But you should. I’ll ask Sorcha to bring you something.” Ivar lied, removing his hand from her hair.

 

Emer immediately missed the warmth of his touch, but nodded.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 He wished he could carry the food to his wife, “Sorcha?”

 

“Yes. What can I do? Is Emer awake?”

 

“She is awake, but she is not feeling well. I want you to serve her food in bed.” Ivar requested.

 

Sorcha smiled, “I’ll prepare everything.”

 

Ivar was pressing his lips, unsure about how to question Sorcha, his voice was quieter now, “Do you know what is happening to her?”

 

Sorcha smiled blushing, “It must be her moon blood.”

 

“Ooh!” Ivar muttered, feeling stupid.

 

 

* * *

 

  

“I’ll never be able to eat everything you brought.” Emer laughed at Sorcha, sitting against the headboard.

 

“You won’t eat alone.” Ivar entered.

 

Sorcha smiled, leaving the room.

 

“But…” Emer stammered.

 

“I lied, I couldn’t eat alone.” Ivar confessed.

 

“You should be training with the men. Father…” Emer couldn’t help thinking about her father’s threat.

 

“Let’s not talk about your father now.” Ivar rasped, making Emer wince at the dryness of his tone.

 

“Ooh! You’re welcome to share my food.” Emer watched Ivar smiling back at her and sitting by her side, “Sorcha is exaggerating. It’s like she believes I’m with child.” Emer said without thinking.

 

"I’m sorry..." Ivar stuttered, averting his eyes and pressing his lips into a thin line.

 

Emer sighed, “I shouldn’t have said that. Forgive me.”

 

“You’re right.” Ivar looked at her.

 

“I just wish…I want…I don’t understand. Sometimes I feel like you want me, but when I want to get closer…” Emer was touching his hand and searching for his eyes, “you push me away and I think you are disgusted. I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” Emer felt warm tears running down her cheeks. It was the first time she cried in front of him in a long time.

 

She sniffed, feeling his warm hand wiping away her tears. A solemn, pained expression clouded his face, “You’re doing nothing wrong. You’re perfect. I’m not a proper husband and I don’t deserve you…” Ivar started trying to explain his reasons, being interrupted by Emer

 

“Stop it! I couldn’t have asked for more than what you’re giving me. I just wish you could open up to me. So, I could help you, if you need and want.” Emer was caressing his free hand and trying to read his face.

 

“I tried it once...when I was younger…” Ivar looked away.

 

Emer smiled, glad that he was trusting her at last.

 

“I tried to be with a woman before. But it didn’t work… I hurt her, and it was over…” Ivar confessed in a voice barely distinguishable from a growl, his lips trembling.

 

“Have you not tried it again?” Emer whispered, still holding his hands.

 

He couldn’t speak, only shook his head from side to side.

 

“But, when…during our wedding night…I felt…” Emer tried.

 

Ivar locked his eyes on hers, Emer’s breath caught in her throat.

 

“It doesn’t last, Emer. I wanted to try, but I was afraid to hurt and disappoint you. And I couldn’t trust you with this secret. If the others know, or our enemies…” he closed his eyes for a moment.

 

“I know. I’ll never judge you. We can try when... and if you want. I’m not afraid of pain. You could never disappoint me, you have been keeping your word with every promise you made.” Emer released his hand to cup his face.

 

“I won’t force you to endure me.” Ivar tried to look away in embarrassment.

 

“Don’t do this. Please. You’re not forcing me, you never did. And I trust you will never do. I have more freedom that I could ever imagine. Yet, I don’t want this freedom. I want nothing more than to be bound to you.” Emer admitted, feeling her stomach fluttering.

 

Ivar blinked some tears, “Truly? You don’t…”

 

Emer’s thumb started caressing his lower lip, while she was licking her own, “May I?”

 

Ivar nodded in approval, closing his eyes and lowering his head. Emer was watching him, her heart racing then he stopped with his lips mere inch from hers, breath caressing each other’s face. She could see his lips were trembling and a few beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. She tilted her head to the right and tasted tentatively with her tongue as she traced it across the bottom of Ivar’s lips. One hand on his cheek and the other going to his thick and shiny hair. Her delicate fingers ruffling his hair. They opened their mouths in synchrony. To avoid scaring him, Emer kept a slow pace. It was painful for her not to succumb to the smoothness of his lips.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ivar didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he kept them on his lap at first. But when she licked his lower lip, Ivar wanted nothing more than to bring her closer. His left hand going to her hair, mimicking her caresses. Her fingers ruffling his hair felt like the warm breeze of Summer. Ivar noticed she was going slow, her tongue plunging into his mouth, swirling along his. The warmth of her skin was melting his insecurities and his right hand started drawing her body closer by the waist. The sweet sound of a moaning leaving her lips made Ivar smile.

 

As the kiss deepened Ivar couldn’t help thinking about their future. He wondered if Emer could forgive him, if Ivar defeated her father. If she would feel the same way about him. And above all things,  _How long will she mourn me, if I die?_

 

The thought of walking to death never felt so scaring. He had never feared death before. In fact, he longed to make himself a legend, dying with glory to be worth of Valhalla. But now, with the warmth of her body against him, her scent invading his nostrils and hearing her gasping for air, those dreams seemed vain. If he was going to die fighting her father, he would make this moment a memory to follow him to Odin’s hall, as he knew that she wouldn’t join him there. She was a Christian and a different kind of warrior. His fierce wife. Ivar smiled against her lips.

 

They were thirsty, but had to stop to breathe. Both panting, but none of them wanted to lose contact. Their noses were rubbing, hands stroking each other’s face, eyes still closed and a smile on their faces.

 

Ivar felt the fluttering of her eyelids against his skin when she opened her eyes. Following her actions, he was rewarded with an inviting smile from her.

 

“I told you I would be fine” Emer laughed.

 

Ivar chuckled and embraced her, kissing her forehead. She held on his waist and smiled feeling loved and desired by him for the first time.

 

Her stomach growled and they laughed, “It seems I have Hati or Fenrir in my bed.” Ivar teased her.

 

Emer slapped his shoulder playfully.

 

“Ouch!” Ivar pretended to be hurt and then his stomach started making noises too.

 

“It seems I have Sköll in my bed. Should we eat or wait for you to swallow the sun?” Emer raised her eyebrows in sarcasm.

 

“Sorcha would be disappointed if we waste the food she prepared.” Ivar winked.

**Author's Note:**

> Sköll In Norse mythology, Sköll (Old Norse “Treachery” is a warg that chases the horses Árvakr and Alsviðr, that drag the chariot which contains the sun (Sól) through the sky every day, trying to eat her. Sköll has a sister (sometimes referred also like brother for a wrong English translation made in 15th century ), Hati, who chases Máni, the moon.
> 
> At Ragnarök, both Sköll and Hati will succeed in their quests. Sköll, in certain circumstances, is used as a deiti to refer indirectly to the father (Fenrir) and not the son. This ambiguity works in the other direction also, for example in Vafþrúðnismál, where confusion exists in stanza 46 where Fenrir is given the sun-chasing attributes of his son Sköll. This can mostly be accounted for by the use of Hróðvitnir and Hróðvitnisson to refer to both Fenrir and his sons. Until Sköll is successful in his mission, the Fremennik believe him to be responsible for causing the extreme heat of summer. Sköll is said to be stronger and more agile than his sister/brother, drawing strength from the strong northern winds.
> 
> MYTHS
> 
> It was probably raised in Járnviðr, together with the other wolves, the old witch who lives there.He runs in the sky behind the chariot of Sól. At the end of time, it is destined to devour the sun (but others say it will Fenrir to do so).
> 
> ETYMOLOGY Skoll / Skǫll, “[One who] lie”? The term, provided in two alternative forms Skoll and Skǫll, has no a precise etymology. Maybe it comes from the verb skolla “lie.” The word also means “stealth”. Note that Skolli is also the nickname of the fox, “[one who] moves stealthy.” 
> 
>  
> 
> [Sköll & Häti](http://www.steelwood.org/skoll/)


End file.
